Operation: Nightingale
by Lady Flick
Summary: Iron Country, a once neutral territory, is believed to be plotting a large-scale war. 'Whenever he thought of her (which was rare and never in an inappropriate manner thank-you-very-much) it was always of choppy pink hair and green eyes and monstrous strength.' AU. SasuSaku.
1. Land of Iron

**Operation: Nightingale**

* * *

**i.**

_Land of Iron_

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It was no secret that the shinobi world was racked with turmoil. Even Konoha, once an abdominal stronghold, was beginning to crumble. The shortage of shinobi aid was proof of the fact that the Fire Country desperately needed help, and that the villages that supplied such aid were being run ragged. Times were tough, and everyone knew; it was as if the entire Leaf Village was suspended in the air, frozen and waiting to shatter. Wallets were pinched from lack of funds, shops closed down from a lack of customers. For the first time since the last Shinobi War, people remembered the whisperings of rebellion, of invasion, and feared travelling once again.

They were teetering on the edge of what could be the next Great Battle; the possibility was so stark and tangible that the faintest breeze could tip the scales in either direction. The only lead they had was the mere _possibility_ that intelligence had found the source of the rapidly forming army – a man who reigned over Iron Country: Watatsumi Susanoo.

The Land of Iron kept mostly to itself, touting neutrality over all other Countries – its role in previous wars was that of bystander. In fact, when faced with the possibility of taking a side or otherwise forced to take a stand with any particular army, Iron Country always belayed the message that they would not be assuaged, often shaming and sending any request for aid running back home with bad news.

Which was why the fact that the impending doom currently hanging over the Shinobi World could possibly be from the Land of Iron was _such _a ridiculous notion.

But it was also their only lead.

"Not much is known about Susanoo," the Hokage declared, bridging her fingers and eyeing the medic before her. "We don't even know if the rumor is true, but we can't take the chance. It's all we've got, and we need to approach this matter very carefully. If Iron Country got wind that a particular Shinobi Village was snooping around, we would surrender whatever upper-hand we might have." A deep sigh escaped her lips then, and the elder blonde pushed forth a manila envelope across her desk. It was thick with information and a background story and marked with the ANBU seal. "This is your new identity. Read, memorize, and _become_ her. We...don't know how long it will take before you can return home."

The implication was clear: her mission was indefinite.

"Do you accept your mission, Haruno Sakura?"

"Aa."

Once the ANBU left, Tsunade allowed herself to release a breath she had been holding and slumped back in her chair, wondering if she made a mistake sending her Head Medic on such an assignment. But word had it that Iron Country needed a medic to treat an epidemic, and Sakura was the best they had – she would have the most opportunity to infiltrate Susanoo's ranks, afterall.

That didn't make the decision any easier. The Hokage closed her eyes, hoping the lead was not false and that she wasn't putting the life of her greatest apprentice at risk.

**.**

**.**

**Name:** Hatsui Tsukiko

**Age: **28

**Hair: **Brown

**Eyes: **Green

**Village: **Degarashi, Tea Country

**Blood Type: **AB+

Sakura watched the brunette woman peer out from the curtains of her caravan as it bumped across the border and along the winding road into Fire Country. From that small glimpse the medic surmised that her target was a nice young woman, bright, intellectual, but clearly afraid to have crossed into a ninja infested land. It always irked Sakura the way people regarded her kind – they sought their protection and yet declared them despicable for having done dirty work.

The ANBU followed, wondering to herself just what this Hatsui Tsukiko had done in her past to be summoned to the Land of Iron – quite practically across the stretch of their continent. Konoha heard little of the rumors of this young doctor, but her reputation must have preceded her in some aspect. Once again Sakura found herself searching through her mind for anything that might hint at Tsukiko's accomplishments. Nothing came to mind.

Afterall, she only studied about shinobi medics.

She surveyed the doctor for a couple of days, allowing the ride to pass further through Fire Country and picking up mannerisms from her target. Tsukiko kept to herself mostly, interacting very little with the burly man who escorted her from her southern home – Tea Country was the farthest south you could go before reaching the sea. It was on the evening before they finally exited Fire Country's borders that Sakura made her move.

All it took was a crushed herb mixed into her favorite – chamomile – tea and Tsukiko awoke the next morning abandoned in the farming village incredibly far from home.

Sakura sent a message to Tsunade that she didn't dispose of Tsukiko – the Hokage could deal with her however she wished. Perhaps wipe her memory? Kakashi's sharingan would take care of that.

**.**

**.**

The Land of Iron resembled nothing of the other Countries Sakura had ever traversed in her years of experience and apprenticeship. Her assignment file warned her to dress warmly; as the medic studied the gray horizon, flashing with lightning, she couldn't help but wryly note that the suggestion in her scroll was a slight understatement. Snowy mountaintops formed the range before her. Intimidating, jagged shadows peaked into thick, ominous clouds. It seemed that all of Iron Country was beneath a perpetual storm. A harbinger of doom, if she had ever seen one.

"Are you doing alright in there, miss?"

Her still green eyes peered at the man (What was his name, again?) leading the horses before her. He was bundled up in layers, familiar with Iron Country territory. Sakura had very little interaction with him, and, luckily, so had Tsukiko. If he had noticed a change in his passenger's appearance, he failed to notice. Perhaps the simple brown-haired, green-eyed look was enough. He could have never been a shinobi.

"Yes," Sakura answered at last. "Just a bit cold."

The male chuckled, a deep, echoing, warm sound that somehow broke through the distant howling wind. "You'll get used to these storms soon enough," he – Ebisu was his name – assured her, risking a glance back at the woman. Dark eyes peered beneath thick brows, patches of a unruly hair dotting the lower portion of his face. "But the culture, that might take some getting used to."

Before she could respond, he had returned his attention to the narrow cliff-side road, much to Sakura's relief. She pulled the hood of her thin cloak over her foreign dark locks and closed the curtain of her caravan, wondering what might be so shocking about the Land of Iron's culture.

**.**

**.**

The manor loomed, tall and stark against the skyline. Its tiers mimicked the slants and ferocity of lightning bolts that served to illuminate the iron fortress in all its indomitable glory. Sakura's carriage was led inside and the first thing she noted with mild interest were the painted faces of not only the female servants, but of the male, as well. Each face was smeared in white, red paint dotting the middle portion of their lips, leaving the corners to blend into the ivory flesh. Small red dots were drawn beneath each eye, at the tops of cheek bones.

Her caravan door opened and Sakura was greeted by a peculiar looking man donning an over-sized headdress molded and structured to mimic a storm at sea. He, along with the others donning his same headdress, wore no white paint but sported the red. The guest quickly surmised it was to distinguish social standing.

The man said nothing as he offered her his hand. She took it, watching her step as the foot-stirrup below the carriage was coated in snow.

"Miss Hatsui, your journey was bearable, I trust?"

Sakura lifted her eyes to meet the gaze of the mysterious leader of Iron. She smiled a pretty smile, demure and practiced, and nodded. "It was...acceptable."

He donned a robe of what appeared to be the softest fur, all in grays and black. Broad shoulders and a chiseled face – he was the embodiment of iron. "Good," even his voice was like a hammer striking an anvil, "you have traveled far. Please, take an evening to rest. Your handmaidens will escort you to your quarters. Make yourself at home." Susanoo had a way of speaking that singled out one person in a room, as if those glinting golden eyes of his had no interest whatsoever in any other living being. "I will introduce you to my army in the morning, they are in dire need of your aid." With a swish of his thick coat, the man turned to leave –

"Then should we wait?" Sakura's query interrupted his retreat, and he peered over his broad shoulder at the guest. "If they need medical attention, I can't rest easy until I've seen to them," she pressed on. If she was there as a medic, might as well uphold a true medic's beliefs.

Susanoo graced her with a smile so magnanimous it was as if she had offered him the world. "A devotion to your cause. That is something I greatly admire. You may see them," he declared. "Your handmaidens will escort you to their grounds. I have a matter I need to attend to, but tomorrow morning, Miss Hatsui, I shall request your company for breakfast."

A polite enough request, but the order beneath his words was clear and left no room for refusal. Sakura bowed her head in understanding.

The most timid of voices emerged from one of the white-painted staff. "This way, Miss Hatsui-"

"Tsukiko," the false brunette cut in, "No need for formalities."

The young girl (she couldn't have been more than fourteen) turned a terrible beet red reminiscent of a certain Hyuuga, and nodded. "This way...Tsukiko."

Sakura smiled and followed.

While her belongings were sent to her chambers, the servant – she refused to disclose her name, only insisted Sakura refer to her as _Nine_ – led the medic down a wooden staircase that creaked with every step and through a dark tunnel that needed some dire upkeep. The walls dripped with what Sakura hoped was melted snow and not leakage form pipes. The entire floor was submerged in at least an inch if not two of sludge. _Thanks for the warning, Susanoo_, she thought bitterly as she ignored the cool sensation squishing between her toes.

They reached a pass where the air became a biting cold and Sakura's breath rose before her eyes. A large iron door stood before them and Nine lifted a tiny hand and knocked. From high above, a narrow little slit opened, the iron sliding to the side, and a pair of eyes peered down. "Who dares strike the anvil?"

"A humble hammer of Lord Watatsumi."

The massive door opened slowly, allowing the duo entry.

Once inside, Sakura met the General – Mifune, coated in the plated armor of a samurai, horned helmet tucked beneath an arm – and was quickly updated on his warriors' conditions. It started out as a and cold spread into something far worse.

"It's like nothing I've ever seen before," the man admitted, dark gaze studying the men in the sick bay. Cots were laid out, side by side, filled with pale, almost _translucent_ soldiers. Mifune tore his gaze away. "You must help them." An order.

Sakura nodded once and slid a surgical mask over her face before entering the area.

She simply arrived to introduce herself to the men, but they seemed too disoriented to even notice a presence in the room with them. Grabbing Tsukiko's journals, she began taking note of the conditions: pale, shivering, dilated pupils, cool to the touch, catatonic, hair loss...

Moving from cot to cot, Sakura resisted the urge to use her chakra to search into their bodies – Tsukiko was a civilian, which meant civilian measures must be taken. She could only use her chakra when she was certain she was alone, and even then, it was a risk.

If there was a clock in the room, she would have guessed it had been about an hour since she arrived. Sleep weighed down her eyelids and the medic slipped her – _Tsukiko's_ – journal into her bag, moving for the exit. Her hand reached up to remove the mask about her mouth when a dark figure emerged before her.

"You must be the medic. Hatsui, was it?" The man towered above her in all his plated armor glory. Unlike Mifune's helmet, his bore no horns. "Thank you for coming. This is a serious epidemic. But you must be tired, you've been here for four hours." _Four hours! _"We appreciate your help," he was pleasant enough, but there was a lack of sincerity in his words, as if he was simply reading them off a scroll. "This fortress can be confusing. Is a handmaid here with you?" He asked as he removed his helmet – pale features, aquiline nose, dark hair, brooding eyes –

"Y-yes," she answered, glad the surgical mask hid her open gape. "Nine was with me." In his gaze she spotted her dark hair and was glad her shock hadn't undone the henge jutsu she barely spared a thought for.

"Good," a nod. "I trust you with these men. Take care of them."

He strode away.

And Sakura watched as Uchiha Sasuke disappeared around the corner.

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* * *

**author's note**

Yep. I'm back. Quite rusty.  
I think it'll be a couple of chapters before  
I'm back up to my old self and cranking  
out far more decent chapters.  
This was clipped and to-the-point,  
but I hope it wasn't too horrendous.

_Review?_ : )


	2. Laid Bare

**author's note:** holy moly me oh my, thanks to everyone who's alerted and favorited this little story of mine : ) I am quite inspired for it, though I'm kind of going at it blind here. My appreciation for my first reviewer _rawr_ is endless. But how lonely it is, to only see one. Is this worth becoming invested in? I suppose, seeing as I've got boundless inspiration at the moment, I'll roll with it and see how it pans out. I hope to hear from more of you! _- Lady Flick_

* * *

**Operation: Nightingale**

* * *

**ii.**

_Laid Bare_

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_What the hell was he doing here?_

Sakura had all but bolted from the soldiers' barracks after watching her former comrade depart. The servant girl had fallen asleep leaning against the wall as she waited for the medic, and Sakura woke her, intent on getting as far away from Uchiha Sasuke as possible. Him being there could very well ruin her plans – would he recognize her? There was nothing in his eyes or his expression that hinted at a flash of familiarity, but half her face was covered and her token pink hair was disguised as brown. But what of next time? Would she always wear a surgical mask around him? Would they encounter each other again?

The young woman sighed and sunk onto the surprisingly hard mattress provided to her. It did little to ease the sudden tension in her back and shoulders. Sakura hunched over, resting her elbows on her thighs and dropping her face into her trembling hands. _What could she do?_

Nobody had seen hide nor hair of the missing-nin in seven years. _Seven years!_ She was still a chuunin! The Hokage's apprentice! He was presumed dead after he finally managed to kill his older brother. But there he was, hiding amidst the storms of the Land of Iron. How long had he been there? What was his incentive? As a precaution she'd have to actively suppress her chakra now-

A knock on the door nearly made the medic jump out of her skin and she stood at the foot of her bed, staring at the entrance, heart pounding. "Yes?" She managed to respond, keeping her voice even.

The door cracked open and there in her threshold appeared Lord Watatsumi. Wrapped in his fur coat, the man blocked whatever torch-light from the corridor might have spilled into the shadowy confines of her quarters. "I hope I'm not bothering you, Miss Hatsui," he began, voice deep, a tremor reverberating from his bones. "I understand you were able to assess my men."

She nodded. "Yes I...I've never seen anything quite like it."

"But you have seen things at least somewhat similar?"

"Well..."

"Miss Hatsui, I sought your aid not for the skill you possess, but for your ability to conduct such thorough research on diseases – without the use of chakra. You will have the aid of my entire medical staff at your disposal. Your journals, in there is an answer somewhere. I do not expect you to be able to heal the men fallen ill but..."

Sakura scowled. "Lord Watatsumi, I am a medic first and a researcher second. I will do what I can to help those men. You have my word."

She found his smile to be easy and off-putting at the same time, as if he was enjoying his own private joke. "Miss Hatsui, you are trembling."

"I-" Her fists had been shaking at her sides. "I am very passionate about what I do," Sakura answered defensively. "I'm sorry Lord Watastsumi, but it's been a very trying week of travel."

The expression in his face was unreadable. "I understand. I admire that passion in you, and please, call me Susanoo." A tilt of his head granted a sliver of light to pass along his profile, accentuating the sharp features of his silhouette. "Good night."

It was minutes after he left and his footsteps faded that Sakura finally allowed herself to breathe.

.

.

The clang of metal echoed off the stone walls, filling the battle chamber with life. Pale blue hair was slick with sweat, fangs bared as his opponent forced him back into a corner. He was quick, however, and before long the icy-haired soldier freed himself from the trap, allowing a smirk to tilt the edge of his lips.

"Don't go soft on my account, Sasuke," he taunted, only earning a warning glare from his counterpart.

The Uchiha responded with a lunge and swing of his arm, his step forceful and demanding, giving his partner little time to decide whether he would benefit from dodging left or right. He knew his enemy, however – and, just as Sasuke predicted, he dodged left, giving the dark-haired shinobi an opening to twist around and catch his sword against his sparring partner's neck. A strand of pale hair fell to the ground.

"Don't get too cocky, Suigetsu."

"Ugh, you got me," the loser conceded, dropping his sword and holding his hands in the air. "Geez, you really need to lighten up."

"Lightening up won't keep you alive," Sasuke snapped, re-sheathing his weapon.

"Being an ass won't keep _you_ alive," Suigetsu grumbled without missing a beat. Upon meeting his comrade's glower, the fanged man rolled his amber eyes, picking up his sword from the cobblestone floor. "Have you heard? That medic's finally made it here – took her long enough, eh?"

Sasuke did hear; in fact, he had greeted said medic a few hours ago.

"You think she'll be able to stop this? God knows I'm not trying to go out that way. Might as well be on the battlefield."

"I don't know," the Uchiha drawled with obvious disinterest, moving to the corner of the chambers where he had discarded his tunic. "She didn't seem particularly special in any way."

"You met her?"

"Does it matter?"

Suigetsu shrugged then and rubbed at the line of red that stained his pale skin. He was cut. "Dammit, Uchiha. Have some control," he groused.

Sasuke, already retreating to his quarters, glanced over his shoulder at his counterpart, "Be quicker next time," and he was gone.

The corridors were abandoned, the other men already likely fast asleep in their respective chambers. Sasuke walked along the twisting halls, autonomous in his trek – how many times had he been on that very same walk? Judging by the iciness in the air, the inexplicable sudden biting cold that burned as much as it chilled, it was well into the evening, perhaps early morning. Darkness from the barred windows merged with the stone walls; it was as if he walked through empty space, and endless trail of solitude and quiet. The man paused at the thought – how fitting.

Upon entering his room and dropping onto his cot, he realized just how strained his muscles were. They burned beneath his skin, inflamed and tense, and the man stared up at the unseen ceiling, trying to will away the pain in his joints. It always passed, after awhile.

What didn't pass, however, were the thoughts creeping out of the crevices in his mind, thoughts that he pushed down into the depth with sheer force of will, but late at night, all alone, in the stillness and afterglow of training, he had no strength. Thoughts of his travels, his accomplishments, his mistakes – his comrades and foes, those he wronged (there were so, _so_ many), his brother...

Sasuke allowed his eyes to close and felt sleep hanging over-head; a cloud bearing immense relief, but refusing to pour.

He had been in Iron Country for the better part of six years; after he heard Susanoo assassinated the former ruler. What was Sasuke doing there? Well, after defeating his brother and learning the truth of his clan, of Konoha, he really had no idea what to do with himself. A part of him wanted to return to his village, but it didn't feel like _his village_ anymore. He had changed, and it had changed, and they were both too different to ever belong in the same sentence again. Naruto belonged in Konoha. Sakura belonged in Konoha. But he? He didn't belong there. He hadn't for a long time.

Where did that leave him?

Sasuke just wanted to do what he could to atone for the blood-splattered history of his people. He wanted to make things right. And that led him to the Land of Iron, where whisperings of a rebellion rose like smoke from a fire. He could recognize those corrupted with power – Orochimaru, the Elders – he faced them enough to know the look in those eyes, those faces, that sought nothing but _more_. He would do whatever he could to put a stop to it.

So he bid his time among Susanoo's samurai, waiting for his moment to strike.

Uchiha Sasuke was many things, but on top of it all, he was patient.

He would wait.

Afterall, he had nothing else to do.

A sigh escaped his cracked lips and he sat up in his cot, returning to the training chambers.

Sleep would not grant him its relief that night.

.

.

Morning came harsh and unforgiving, though Sakura would not have known it if Nine hadn't been banging on her door. Green eyes parted and pink greeted her vision. The medic sat up at once, quickly maintaining the henge that granted her brown locks, before calling her handmaid in.

Nine tentatively opened the door and apologized profusely for waking her.

Sakura waved a hand to dismiss it. "Is something wrong?" She prompted, wiping sleep from a bleary eye.

"Wrong? No, miss, but Lord Watastsumi has requested your presence for breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Sakura repeated, glancing out her window. Only darkness could be seen, and the occasional flash of lightning. "What time is it?"

"Just about six in the morning Miss Ha-"

"Tsukiko," Sakura corrected, giving her handmaid a look.

Nine blushed and lowered her head in what could only be taken as a bow. "Yes, Tsukiko. Lord Watatsumi has asked for your presence for breakfast. Shall I escort you?"

"I should probably get ready first," the medic muttered, mostly to herself. With a heavy sigh, she rose form her (rather uncomfortable) bed and stretched.

"Yes, of course, will you need my assistance?"

"No, I think I can manage," Sakura answered with a crooked smile.

Nine nodded. "I will wait out here then."

When the door closed, Sakura crumpled into the sheets once more.

After a few more bouts of Nine knocking and reminding Sakura that she was to get ready for breakfast, the medic was _finally_ up and making her way to the breakfast hall. Dressed in a simple wool dress and furlined boots, Sakura considered altering her appearance with a stronger henge jutsu, but decided against it. Susanoo and Nine had both gotten a good look at her face and besides, a stronger use of chakra could surely be identified. She would simply have to play her role well and hope the Uchiha failed to recognize her. It _had_ been nearly a decade.

"Ah, Miss Hatsui," Susanoo greeted with that smile he must be told was charming. "Please, have a seat."

She did so, noting the place settings for two others at his table. "I apologize if I kept you waiting," Sakura offered with a demure smile.

"No need, in fact, you are the first of my guests to arrive. Tell me, Miss Hatsui, did you sleep well?"

Her eyes jumped to his face and she found something there that didn't quite sit well with her. There was something lecherous in the twisted smile, the glow of his gaze. Sakura fought the urge to squirm under his stare. "I slept well enough," she answered, forgoing polite formalities, "though the mattress is a bit firmer than I am accustomed to."

Susanoo arched a single elegant brow and leaned forward on the table, eyes never leaving her face. "Is that so? There a select few beds that are," his voice dropped an octave, "_much_ softer-"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Both occupants turned to a pair walking into the hall.

"Not at all, Mifune," Susanoo answered, straightening up in his seat and gesturing to the other two places at the table. "Miss Hatsui, this is General Mifune. He commands the army."

Mifune, brusque and manly with his unruly hair and rather large nose, nodded his greeting. "We've met. Good morning Miss Hatsui."

"Good morning, General," she responded in kind.

"This is my second-in-command. Lieutenant Himitsu Sasuke."

Sakura's jaw stiffened for the fraction of a second, just long enough for the Lieutenant to narrow his eyes at her reaction. She relaxed it at once and allowed an easy smile to cross her lips. "We've met as well," the medic answered, "though he didn't mention that he was Lieutenant. It's a pleasure." Inwardly, she focused on redirecting the natural flow of her chakra, reversing its progressing spin so as to suppress it rather than summon it. For someone with her kind of control, it was as easy as breathing.

There was static in the air as the two Samurai approached the table. Sakura did her best to keep her eyes on her plate, back straight, but she could _feel _a pair of eyes studying her. When she finally managed to look up, she found that it was Susanoo who had been staring. Sasuke sat across from her, the general to her left, neither particularly interested in _her_.

"So, Miss Hatsui, what could you assess from my men's conditions?" Mifune opened, fixing the young woman with an expectant look.

"Well, it seems that whatever is affecting them is finding passage not through their blood but their veins. From a simply observational approach I can determine that whatever this illness is, it is not something that is easily transmitted. It _seems_ to need some sort of direct contact with the blood-stream." A plate of bread and jam was brought out to the table and Sakura waited for Susanoo to take his helping before grabbing a piece for herself. "But of course, all of this is strictly based on what I observed, I'll have to run tests."

She took her butter knife and spread a generous layer of jelly on her slice of bread.

Sasuke took no jam – and she hated that she even bothered to notice that.

"Do you think you will be able to help them?" Mifune pressed, talking between mouthfuls. He could put that bread away like a beast.

Sakura glanced between him and Susanoo before deciding on an honest shrug. "It's too soon to tell, General. But rest assured, I will do everything I am able."

He nodded his understanding and didn't wait to dig into the scrambled eggs and ham that came out next.

Breakfast went by smoothly enough, with the quartet speaking of nothing particularly important. In fact, Sakura wasn't even sure as to the purpose of their meal together – if Susanoo wasn't looking to discuss serious matters, why bother? It became clear as the meal came to an end, however, that there _was _a very delicate matter at hand –

"Lord Watatsumi. As you know, Lightning Country is beginning to attack our borders. I will need to take my men and..." Mifune cast a furtive glance Sakura's way, "..._take care_ of them. I will be leaving my lieutenant behind to oversee things here. Should things take a...ah," another uncertain look towards the only woman present, "...turn for the worse, you can trust him to handle it."

"General, I am a grown woman and am not shy around the wounded and dying," Sakura quipped, "Please don't feel the need to censor the truth on my account."

At her outburst, Susanoo laughed. "This one has fire in her."

Sakura met Sasuke's gaze across the table-

And she conveniently dropped her fork.

.

.

The door to Suigetsu's room burst open and the pale-haired man scowled at the intrusion, lazily drawing a blanket over both him and his naked guest. She was a plain looking girl with long dark hair and a shapely form. The makeup that dotted her cheeks was lined with sweat, the paint on her lips smudged across the boundaries of her mouth (and likely on certain other places on the fanged samurai, as well.

"So, how was breakfast with the almighty Watatsumi?"

Sasuke glared in response, simply pacing the width of the chamber.

"That good, huh?"

"Mifune is taking our troops to defend the border," the Uchiha answered, doing his best to suppress his frustration. Why should _he _be left behind to baby-sit half-conscious men? All he needed was to kill off Mifune and he would be in command of the Samurai. He would be one step closer to stopping Susanoo.

"So? You get to relax here and have all these lovely women to yourself," he finished the thought with a suggestive grin directed right at his escort who giggled in response and buried her head beneath the sheets to presumably pleasure the very content samurai. "_Ah_," Suigetsu moaned, "you know, you should try this sometime, it'll help relieve the pressure from that stick up your ass."

Sasuke left before he was exposed to anything traumatizing - he had enough of _that_ in his history.

Of course, Sasuke _had_ done those things, in fact, he wasn't a stranger to them at all – but that didn't mean he would waste his time on such frivolities when much more important matters were at hand. Briefly, he recalled the last time he partook in such carnal pleasures. She was a pretty enough thing with big doe eyes and a slim frame. There was no muscle in her body, just taut skin over hard bone, and though she was certainly sexy, something in her voice grated at his nerves. So he gagged her, which she loved. It had been...decent, he supposed. Even so, it _had _been a couple of weeks...

No.

He couldn't waste his time with nonsense.

If he had idle time, he would train.

.

.

"I swear it gets colder and colder every second," Sakura mumbled, tugging the hood of her cloak over her head. "Do you actually get used to this?"

Nine shook her head, but said nothing. The manner in which she carried herself belayed the fear she held for her lord. The young girl was careful with both her words and her actions. Despite her restraint, there was an intelligence and awareness in the handmaiden's eyes that convinced Sakura she knew more – far more – than even Susanoo was aware of.

General Mifune had already taken his men to fight Lightning Country, and after meeting with the medics on staff and designating each available pair of hands to a menial task – in other words, paperwork Sakura would rather not do – she was forced to accomplish the only other task at hand. Working with and reporting to the second-in-command.

His quarters were deep in the labyrinth of the Training Grounds, and Sakura estimated that they had walked at least two kilometers into the stonewall fortress. Nine hesitated before his door and and gesture for Sakura.

The medic nodded her thanks and pushed into the chambers, "Sorry to bother you Lieutenant, but I have some matters to discuss with you-"

It all happened so fast, within a matter of half a breath.

There was Sasuke, just where she was told she would find him. And a very naked (and pleased) woman. The tangle of sheets did little to spare either person their dignity. The woman tilted her head backwards over the edge of the Uchiha's bed, ebony locks tumbling to the damp floor. Her legs were propped on the samurai's shoulders, and his arms were braced on either side of her head to stabilize himself as he pumped deep into her warmth-

His gaze found wide jade eyes and everything _stopped_.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? Get out!"

Sakura didn't need to be told twice, she immediately shut the door and pressed her back against it, trying to flush the image of a bare Sasuke – with his broad shoulders, defined arms, the sweat-matted planes of his chest – out of her mind.

Beside her, Nine couldn't seem to regain composure of her gaping mouth.

The medic reached over and shut it for her, but there was nothing to be done about the young girl's furious blush. Sakura surmised she must have a similar tinge to her cheeks.

The door flew open and she spun around in time to avoid falling into a bare-chested Uchiha, eyes filled with absolute loathing. "Don't you knock?" He growled, the sound coming from deep within his abdomen.

"I-" Rather than feel like an idiot, Sakura straightened up, dully ignoring the fact that he was likely _naked_ underneath the pillow he held oh-so-casually over his hips. "You should have locked your door!"

Obviously that wasn't the answer he was expecting, if his indignant stare was any indication. He immediately schooled his expression into that of disdain. "What I do in my own private cell is _my_ business, Miss Hatsui."

He was right, of course, but that didn't mean she would admit it. "I suggest you finish up _your business_, so you can deal with matters required of the Second-in-Command," she snapped, before turning on her heel to return to the medical branch. A stunned Nine hurried after her.

It didn't take long for the sound of a door slamming to echo down the corridor.

.

.

* * *

**author's notes: **naked sasuke? yes please.

_o1._ I apologize for grammar errors here. I pumped this bad boy out today and though I tried to edit during the writing process, I never seem to be able to catch all the mistakes no matter how many times I reread it.

_o2_. Can Sasuke sense Sakura's chakra? Yes and no, he _would_ be able to, certainly, if she was using a larger amount of it. However not only is she using a small amount to maintain her simple henge, but she is also actively suppressing it. He'll be able to tell if they ever touch, though ; )Sooo ... /shrugs.

_o3._ Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Fire and Shadow

**author's note: **As an aside, have you guys found that nifty little tool that allows you to view a story at 3/4 view? I _love_ it.

* * *

**Operation: Nightingale**

* * *

**iii.**

_Fire and Shadow_

_._

_._

Needless to say, the Uchiha was rather _distracted_ after the interruption and he ordered the young woman currently laying in his bed off to her chambers. She pouted prettily, coaxing him to return with that husky voice and those shapely breasts, but he fixed her with a glare that left no room for argument and she sat up at once, avoiding his eyes as she extricated herself from his bed and searched for her abandoned robes.

A glance down at his form coerced a groan from the frustrated shinobi and, with sheer force of will, he made himself forget the way soft skin brushed against his neck and the way his consort's chest bounced with each thrust and the way her nails scraped into his back and the feel of her around his most sensitive appendage and the way that medic's eyes went wide with shock as she stood there, witnessing him enjoy the most carnal of pleasures and he ignored the way just that bit of exposure had him inexplicably excited- _what_ the hell was he thinking?

The woman made a move for the door but Sasuke reached out to grab her wrist and pinned her against the barricade. The pillow dropped, exposing a job left unfinished and the woman offered a sultry smile. Sasuke didn't even see it, already moving down to bury his face into the crook of her neck, imagining wide green eyes and the soft, inviting, gape of that medic's parted lips and he pretended she was there, watching, with every thrust, every moan escaping the servant girl's throat. Or perhaps he was imagining her instead, grasping at his shoulders, grinding against his movements - his thoughts were getting rather muddled but that didn't matter because just the thought of having been caught was enough for him to get exactly where he needed to go (not that Uchiha Sasuke couldn't get there on his own, of course).

If he was an exhibitionist he never knew it, but as he rode down from the high of release, he pressed his forehead against the door frame and wondered if he'd always been that way or if it was something being intruded on brought out. It was something new he found out about himself. And there was something highly enticing about it.

A lazy flick of his wrist opened the door, and without a word, he made it very clear the woman was to leave. She did so, clasping her robes over her figure. The disgruntled look on her face let him know she hadn't been entirely satisfied, but the man really couldn't care less. Normally he rode the sensations out until both parties were content, but (as the medic said) he had business to attend to. The man took a moment to collect himself, brushing the sweat-matted bangs from his face, before getting dressed in a simple tunic and coat and heading off to find the girl with green eyes.

Sasuke found her in the medical ward, hunched over a cot and writing furiously in her journal. When he entered, she glanced up from her work, as if alerted to his presence, and frowned. The expression on her face was _so familiar_ in that instant, and her eyes, _god_ those eyes that were wide and horrified in seeing him and the satisfaction that lingered in his abdomen at the memory of it -

"Take care of your business, then?"

Her tone was so lofty that any sensual thoughts he might have had for the young woman were instantly dissipated. He scowled, "Yes, I did."

A flip of her journal and she turned her body away from the figure on the cot, instead facing him. One leg crossed over the other, the hem of her tunic casting suggestive shadows along her thigh. He allowed his eyes to traverse the line of her leg, before moving up along her form to meet her very unamused face. If she noticed him eyeing her, she didn't bother mentioning it. Besides, the present expression on _his _face betrayed nothing but disinterest and frustration. Not that he was interested in her, in any case, he was simply observational. He always had been.

"Well, I'm glad." (Something in her words gave him the impression that she was wasn't 'glad' at all. ) "But now that you're here, I should tell you what I've found about this illness that's spreading among _your_ ranks," she said with self-imposed authority. "I haven't done much work as of yet, and of course tests are on-going, but what I've been able to surmise is that this disease finds a way to block the chakra system, essentially rendering a person unable to use it."

Sasuke listened as she prattled on with medical jargon that he couldn't follow, but in the end he moved towards her and slammed a hand down on her precious journal. "Cut to the chase."

She frowned, prying her notebook from beneath his palm, suddenly aware of his looming presence before her. Sakura stood to match his height, forehead nearly brushing against his scowl, and moved back a step. "The chakra system has been blocked, yes, but the blood is still pumping through their veins, just..." she paused, nipping at her lip to find appropriate, understandable words, "...much slower. Causing an almost stasis effect on the body."

"And?" Sasuke prompted, literally looking down his nose at the brown-haired medic.

"I don't know how to recharge the chakra. I imagine it to be similar to dried blood on skin. Liquid will energize the dried blood, letting it run with a fluid consistency again. Maybe if there was a way to, I don't know, recharge the chakra..."

"With more chakra?" The samurai supplied, moving closer to the body, hands ready to press his chakra into the seemingly dead man's chest.

"Well yes, but no!" Sakura exclaimed, grabbing his hands before he could do anything stupid. "Are you a trained medic?" She countered angrily, rhetorically, "Do you know how to properly control your chakra to a medical nin's degree?"

But Sasuke wasn't listening. Her hands were calloused with work that he doubted any civilian doctor would encounter, and her reflexes? He had barely registered that she moved, how could she have grabbed his wrists so quickly? His dark eyes bore into hers; so green, so _angry_, and so familiar all the same. Who was this Hatsui Tsukiko? Something in the back of his mind twitched, a very much faded memory from a long, long time ago._  
_

Sakura let him go at once, lowering her eyes to the ground, and mentally chided herself for forgetting just _who _she was pretending to be. She couldn't deny the shock that shot up her forearms in touching him – it was like falling into your own bed after a long mission. Comforting. She could see the clock-gears grind in his head though he didn't ask her any questions outright. She knew Sasuke well enough to be aware of when he was mentally churning something over, when he was suspicious. The medic moved away from him then and dislodged a sudden lump in her throat with a cough.

"I—I'll have to ask one of the medic-nin at Lord Susanoo's disposal to attempt it," she said, irritation seeping into her voice.

Sasuke nodded once slowly, studying her posture, the way she held the journal to her chest, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, across her eyes in a wave of chocolate – he hated chocolate. "I'll go get someone," he said carefully, the frown still on his face. But he wasn't angry, he was confused. And he didn't like being confused. "What did you say your name was?"

Her eyes met his then and those lips of hers parted (lips that, moments ago, were settled in a gape that managed to rile him up) as if to say something, then she stopped and took another cautionary step away. "Hatsui Tsukiko," she said evenly.

"Hatsui Tsukiko," he rolled the name around on his tongue to see if it felt familiar. It didn't. "Alright, Tsukiko. I'll be right back with a medic."

Only after his form vanished around a corner did Sakura allow herself to sink to the ground, legs trembling from facing off against the Uchiha. Did he know? He certainly suspected something, and that was because she forgot who she was and reverted to medic-Sakura mode. She couldn't erase the memory of the shock in his eyes when she caught him – lithe, precise, too quick for a civilian. And his _eyes_, would there be a day she could look into them and not feel something twist in her gut? She was a grown ass woman and yet there she sat, a puddle on the floor, because of Uchiha Sasuke.

Sakura sighed and leaned her head back. What the hell was he even _doing_ in Iron Country?

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, reminding herself over and over that she was not Haruno Sakura. She was Hatsui Tsukiko. The civilian doctor. And she had no history with Uchiha Sasuke.

By the time the aforementioned man returned with a medic, the brunette was seated by the first samurai who contracted the illness. She greeted them pleasantly enough, with a cold professional air, using only clipped responses or commands when she needed to. Otherwise, she kept her focus on the samurai lying in the cot, eyes unwavering from his face in anticipation. The medic-nin – his name was Habitsu - slowly pulsed chakra into the patient's torso, tentatively at first then more as Sakura instructed.

She remained a good foot away from Sasuke, he noted with mild curiosity, shifting whenever he'd make a move nearer.

And then –

"Look!" Sakura breathed, a genuine smile on her face, in her eyes.

Sasuke looked, and there, in the cot, was a man whose color warmed from pale to pink whose chest rose and fell with ease, whose eyeballs moved beneath his lids as though in a dream.

"We did it!" She said in relief, something much more than satisfaction in her voice, and she gave Habitsu a hug, arms wrapped tightly about his frame. Sasuke saw him hesitate at first, then awkwardly pat at her shoulder. When she released him, she nodded the Uchiha's way and instantly put Habitsu to work as she began testing the patient's vital signs.

Sasuke left.

.

.

Sakura lay in bed that evening, studying the images splayed across her ceiling. The ongoing storm outside streamed shadows along her walls, the rain dripping down her window. Normally, she was terrified of storms, but there was something soothing about the drumming of the rain that assuaged her fears. It also kept her mind from recalling earlier events that day – namely walking in on her childhood love having sex with another woman. A part of her felt like she should have been angrier, but her interest was piqued. She had never _seen_ people have sex before, and Sasuke had looked every bit as tantalizing as he had in her day dreams.

Dark hair flush against his forehead, locks falling freely over his face, sweat dotting his temples, his neck, before dripping in rivulets along the muscles beneath his taut skin, the look of intensity and purpose in his eyes – clouded over with _pleasure_ and the promise of something explosive –

_Stop it, Sakura_, she ordered. There was no room for him in her life now!

Even so, it was near impossible to forget the way his abdominal muscles flexed as he pressed his hips flush against that servant girl's hips, the way his triceps popped as he braced himself. Sakura sighed at the memory, picturing it, picturing him. The warmth of his skin when she grabbed his wrists...

_No. No, no, no, no, no!_

Her eyes peeled open then, set in a permanent glare on the ceiling. She would _not _waste her thoughts on the (sexy, illustrious, tantalizing) Uchiha.

Lightning flashed, almost causing her to tense. It was a beckoning for her to admire the vastly furnished chambers, before submerging her sight to darkness again. It was like a game. How much could she see before it disappeared? How much could she remember of the items in her room?

A rustic mirror hung on the far wall. A dresser carved like the curving, languid silhouette of a stretching cat. An armoire that nearly reached the ceiling. Crown molding that mirrored waves. A shadow standing by the door –

She leapt out of bed, but was cast into obscurity. It was easy enough to find the intruder of course, as he lunged at her, sword raised. Sakura moved with practiced grace, easily avoiding his strike and instead delivering a faintly chakra-assisted blow of her own to send him flying. His body hit the far wall before crumpling to the ground. A rather large dent marked his point of contact and Sakura suddenly realized just _what_ she did wrong. A billion methods of avoiding him raced through her head - _scream for help, evade, knock him out with medical ninjutsu,_ but leaving such an obvious show of strength? Thoughts of Sasuke had her so on edge; she was an _idiot_._  
_

Without wasting another second, she raced to him and rammed _herself_ against the wall, making sure to bruise. She hauled the man's body atop her form, and carefully bumped his forehead against the hilt of his sword, before promptly calling, "Help!"

To her surprise, Sasuke was the one who appeared at her door first (what was he doing so nearby?), followed quickly by Susanoo and various handmaids, Nine among them. In Susanoo's hand was a flickering torch shed a light that pushed the darkness back just enough to reveal most of the room before dancing among the languid shadows. Sakura suddenly felt on display in her night gown. The bed sheets were so thick and warm, it was a feat to be wearing anything at all! She wasn't a stranger to going bare beneath the comforters.

"What happened here?" The lord demanded, stalking in and making no effort to avoid ravaging the medic with his eyes. He was certainly a fortress in his own right, his height rivaling that of Sasuke's - his shoulders broader, menacing, but comforting if one was to disappear into an embrace.

She squirmed beneath the weight of the unconscious body but quickly held her arms across her chest as Sasuke lifted the intruder off of her. Susanoo extended his hand to help her up, and she made a show of being in pain, favoring her back and right shoulder. "I was in bed when he entered and I don't know, he tried to attack me," she properly wailed, "I tried to get away but he bull-rushed me against this wall and I guess he hit his head against the hilt of his sword."

The look Sasuke gave her was filled with disbelief, but he remained silent.

Susanoo made a show of fussing over Sakura and draped his coat across her shoulders (it was exceedingly large) as his medical team assessed her condition. In the end, the medics reported some deep bone bruising but nothing more, and cleared her to remain in her quarters. The intruder on the other hand... The Iron Lord was livid and barked orders at his men to do their best to awaken the assailant and demand answers. "A breach of security! Who was on patrol in the ward? How did he get so far with his weapon? Nobody stopped him? Where was the guard who secured this floor? Who _is_ this man? He is wearing the armor of my samurai!"

"Yoshida Hiro," Sasuke declared as the staff lifted the man onto a stretcher to bring him to the medical sect. Susanoo escorted them, gaining what he could from their observations and the situation. That left just Sakura and the dark haired samurai standing oh-so near her bed. "He was the man you worked on earlier, Tsukiko."

"What?" She whispered, eyes widening at the news. "The first patient?"

A nod.

"But-"

"I think we have more pressing matters," Sasuke interrupted, taking two striding steps to close the distance between them. Sakura was hyper-aware of his proximity and the scant clothing she wore beneath Susanoo's fur robes. "Hiro was hit in the back of the head as well. Not just the front. If he had run into the hilt of his sword when he rushed at you then what-"

Sakura kissed him.

Anything to distract him, to stop his talking.

And it worked, because he responded in kind, so enthusiastic that Sakura wondered if he _hadn't_ finished his business with that woman in his bed. He shifted his weight to account for her body pressed against his, because she had leaned a bit too far forward and lost her balance but that didn't matter because Sakura _knew_ him and she expected him to catch her. His arms hooked around her then, fingers digging into the fur, and even through the robes his fingertips left blazing fires across her skin.

Her day dreams came flooding back and Sakura took his kisses hungrily, slanting over his mouth to taste more – just a little more – and he matched her advancements, forcing her back into the wall – the dent – and flattening her against it with his strong frame. When his lips left hers she began to protest but was answered with a growl that thrummed from his throat. His kisses massaged the base of her neck, and his _hands_ ventured beneath her coat, ghosting over the soft fabric of her nightgown and Sakura melted into his touch.

In a fluid motion he had hiked her up, legs propped around his waist, hands supporting the backs of her firm thighs and he fell flush into her, so much so that had he removed his grip on the sweet, inviting curve of her ass, she would have likely remained suspended off the ground.

Sasuke took her in, the salty-sweet beads of sweat along her neck, the sharp edge of her collar bone, the slick heat between her legs, and the way her chest felt crushed against the smooth expanse of his torso and the deftness of her fingers as they tangled through his hair, and the _gasp _that emerged from her swollen lips as he grazed exploratory fingers over her warmth, protected only by the gauze of underwear that could easily be moved to the side.

He knew she had kissed him to delay his train of thought but he wouldn't forget the conversation she so _wonderfully_ interrupted – it could wait. Besides, how could he resist when he still had thoughts of the way she had entered his chambers and those eyes of hers were so wide and curious and shocked and inviting and the same was to be said of that evening when _he_ burst into her room. And the very same could happen then - afterall, he doubted Susanoo was quite finished fawning over his guest (whom Sasuke was currently entangled with).

His fingers teased her, moving in a circular motion over the delicate fabric covering her warmth, and she scratched into his back, nails prominent even over his tunic.

"S-Sasuke-"

"_Unbelievable!_"

The voice came from down the hall and the duo sprung apart at the sound as thudding footsteps grew nearer and nearer until Susanoo appeared at the threshold. By then Sasuke was quite a few steps away from the medic, and Sakura leaned back against the wall, tugging the fur coat about her tightly.

"Lieutenant Himitsu, you're still here?" The lord said with mild surprise.

"It took a bit for Miss Hatsui to calm down enough so that she might be able to recount exactly what happened tonight," he answered as calmly (and as disinterestedly) as though he was watching paint dry.

Susanoo's amber gaze found Sakura – flushed and sweaty – and his eyes softened. "You're welcome to stay in my quarters tonight, if you're uncomfortable remaining here," he offered. If it wasn't for the hint of a smirk at the edge of his lips, she would have mistaken his offer as good-willed. Somewhere in her periphery, Sasuke shifted.

"I'm fine, thank you, Susanoo," she answered with some resolve.

"As you wish," he was visibly put-out. "But I'll risk no more of this happening," the lord announced, squaring his shoulders. "You are far too necessary – you revived Hiro, afterall-"

_Yeah, and he tried to kill me_, Sakura thought wryly.

"-You will be formally trained in self defense. Himitsu Sasuke, you will train her."

Sasuke nodded. "Of course, Lord Watatsumi." A bow.

"Tsukiko," Susanoo opened gently, "Try to get some sleep. Lieutenant? Shall we leave the lady to rest?"

A moment's hesitation, then the Uchiha followed after the retreating lord, and Sakura stared after him, wondering just _what_ she had gotten herself into.

.

.

She was like _fire_ in his grasp, burning, thriving, and dangerous. Sasuke demolished any ideas in his head about how enjoyable it had been to have her in his hands, how sweet she tasted, how easy it was to fit up against her and spare no other thought as to what they were doing and why. In that moment it had just felt like fire engulfing gas and then the explosion of ecstasy. No woman had ever triggered such a reaction from him, particularly not from a _kiss. _And even more so as a distraction – how had she side-tracked him so thoroughly? Perhaps it was the thrill of the moment, the chance of getting caught, the possibility of prying eyes, that drove him to accept her gesture - not only to accept it, but to return it tenfold. That was it. He was just...an exhibitionist of sorts. It was all just new. It had nothing to do with the medic per se.

Sasuke scowled as he moved through the kata of his shinobi years, not bothering with the forms of swordsmanship. He needed something familiar, something he relied on, that was second nature; he needed control, a sense of grounding. Especially after the flash of spontaneity and absolute pleasure – _Stop it._ He would not allow himself to lose focus with such frivolous things. She was a key player in Susanoo's game, it seemed, not some servant girl he could exploit for his release.

His movements were quick but restrained, never wasting energy he didn't need to, going from one form to another with fluid grace; easy as breathing. _But breathing was difficult when she was wrapped around you – _Sasuke abolished that thought at once and continued with his kata.

Even so, as he slid from one form to the next, his movements were restricted by the very distracting erection fighting against his pants.

He scowled.

How annoying.

.

.

* * *

**author's notes:**

_o1. _Phew. A taste of some lovin' baha. Good job, Sakura. Does Sasuke know who she is? Maybe. You'll have to wait and see /cheshire grin.

_o2._ I'm currently in class, in fact I finished this up in class, and I hope I caught most of the mistakes, but I'll likely continue to edit this over the next few days. I just didn't want to keep you guys waiting ; )

_o3._ Training together. Much sexual tension will ensue. Yum. I'll admit, I hadn't planned to have her kiss him or for things to go that far at all. As I was typing, Story Sakura just pounced and I went with it, I guess? Haha I have the events planned out, but things like that, I guess, are out of my control. Story Sakura did that on her own : |

_o4. _Hope you enjoyed! Moarz? Let me know what you think, I always respond to my reviews! I've never actually written an M rated fic so bear with me as I explore this new territory.

_o5. _Is this something I should continue with? I've got plotbunnies galore for this story and I can't wait to unleash them, but I'm unsure of it's the right way to go, such little feedback has been received. Do you guys like it? Hate it? Is something off? Is there something you particularly liked? If you tell me, I can improve : )

- _Lady Flick_


	4. Training

**author's notes: ** 2000 views? That's pretty awesome, I have to say, and the sudden influx in reviews was a pleasant thing to see as well! It certainly motivated me to stretch my fingers and type out this chapter today. I had planned to have time to do it on Friday and post by Saturday, but friends getting engaged and leaving resulted in many parties to be had this past weekend. But I managed to get out an update regardless - I think that deserves some love in the form of reviews, don't you? I did it for you lovely readers, afterall. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Operation: Nightingale**

* * *

**iv.**

_Training_

**.**

**.**

"You are small," he stated frankly, sizing up the young woman standing before him. "Force won't be on your side, but speed will." Sasuke moved around her, eyes taking in every inch of her slender frame, mentally noting the looseness of her tunic, the appearance of utter _lack_ of anything resembling muscle. _But when your fingers probed beneath her robes, there was evident resistance along her abdominals, her glutes –_ the man obliterated the thought and stood before the medic. "Utilize that advantage, any man that tries to overcome you will consider you weak and use his strength-" did the medic just exhale a derisive snort? "-to subdue you."

Sakura stood stock-still as he circled her, like a predator his prey, and refrained from pressing her various fingers together of one fist; she often fidgeted under such heavy scrutiny. Their previous encounter didn't do much to ease her nerves, considering she was wrapped about him, devouring his kisses and offering her own. He lectured her on the very basic essentials of taijutsu, and she did her best to _seem_ interested, but it was genin-level instruction and Sakura had to try her best to respect his tutelage. But when he denounced her power she very nearly laughed.

She met his gaze as he settled before her. "And what should I do, then?"

The shinobi sighed, an imperceptible motion, but the sound fell on her trained ears, and took a beginner's defensive stance. "At any moment, you could be attacked, and it's difficult to think under that sort of pressure. In this form, you are protecting your center but given the freedom of movement," he demonstrated pivoting first on one foot, then the other, before continuing. "You'll need that sort of fluid motion to evade an attack. You try."

Sakura swallowed her pride and took on the role of humble genin. "Like this?" She asked, lifting her arms far too wide and off-center and barely separating her feet.

Sasuke fought the urge to slap a hand to his forehead. "See this?" He prompted, moving through a slow-motion punch to her chest, "You're leaving yourself completely open for a blow. And this," he continued, nudging her shoulder and watching her stumble, "your feet are too close together. Your center of gravity isn't dispersed for maximum effectiveness. You'll want to square your stance, like this-" he adjusted her arms and, with a tap of his foot on her leg, silently instructed her to widen her feet. "Better," _b__ut not good_, the shinobi finished. "Now, show me how you pivot."

Sakura did so, purposefully putting her weight on her heel.

The expression on her counterpart's face was absolutely hilarious and she looked away to hide the smile threatening to betray her amusement. She was supposed to be learning! "Like that?" She goaded, maintaining an air of naïveté as she met his eyes. There was something to be said about the control the Uchiha had when dealing with an utter moron.

"No!" Sasuke snapped, then, regaining his composure, settled for a scowl. "You pivot on the _ball _of your foot, not the heel." His tone carried all the haughtiness of the twelve year old she was once half in love with. Or entirely in love with. When Sakura only stared in response, he demonstrated his pivot again for good measure. Sakura repeated the movement with all the grace of a child freshly off a rapidly spinning carousel. She knew she was jagged and harsh and deplorable in her pivot, but Sasuke managed to keep his temper. "Good," he muttered, the frustration written, clear as day, in his eyes. "Let's...move on."

Sakura had never seen him so aggravated and hopeless.

She found it absolutely hysterical.

Sasuke watched her pivot – if you could _call _it that – from one foot to the other, and wondered just how she managed to survive in the world for so long. He cringed with each brittle, lumbering turn she made. _She is a civilian_, he reminded himself, _don't expect much from her_. Even so, as she floundered across the length of the chamber, he stepped in and caught her shoulders, halting her mid-pivot so that she wobbled on the ball of a single foot.

"Tsukiko. You-" _are about as graceful as as a fish out of water_ "-are terrible at this."

The frown on Sakura's face was real. Sure, she was putting on an act, but that didn't stop the cracked pride in her chest when Uchiha Sasuke was disappointed in her. Nevermind that he was disappointed in her caricature of Hatsui Tsukiko – whom, Sakura recalled, wasn't particularly ungainly in any respect.

"Keep your foot up, go higher on the ball of your other," he instructed, holding her steady, when she complied, he swiveled her, guiding her shoulders. "The movement should be smooth, fluid, minimal effort. Like this," Sasuke iterated, moving her shoulder first left, then right. "Feel the difference?"

She nodded.

"Good. Now do it again."

She did.

That time, Sasuke noted with mild amusement, she hardly seemed to have been trying. Her pivots were precise and languid, yet the expression on her face was as careless as they come. The medic pivoted as though she had mastered that even prior to walking; it was easy, light, and a large improvement from earlier. _Too_ large. His eyes narrowed as she finished her set across the training room.

Sakura stopped before the wall and took a deep breath. She could still feel his fingertips burning acutely on her shoulders where he had grasped her. His shadow against the stark gray wall alerted the medic to his presence behind her. She was so aware of his proximity, and closed her eyes when his voice – deep, demanding – broke through the strands of her brunette curls, breath warming the nape of her neck.

"Again. This time, avoid me."

The young woman obeyed, finally turning around to meet his stare. They moved around the other so that his back was to the nearest wall, and, remarkably slowly, he made an advancement which she cleanly dodged with a simple swivel to her left. If he was impressed or satisfied with her pivot, he didn't show it, instead making another advance. Sakura slid away, arms held up as he taught her – or as instinct willed her. He moved quicker the next time, but the medic responded in kind, no hesitation, no awkward misstep; it became a dance – the most boring kind – of Sasuke stepping forward and the woman evading. And then he quickened his pace, challenging his pupil. The previous impartial look in his eyes was replaced with something else, something Sakura couldn't quite pin.

It was as if he was daring her to do something, but what?

She felt something akin to fear grip her as her shoulder-blades hit the far wall.

"You're a quick study." It sounded more like an accusation than a compliment.

Sakura lowered her eyes, "I've always been a quick study." A nonchalant lie. For all Sasuke knew, Hatsui Tsukiko _could_ be have been a quick study her entire life. "My...grandfather was a shinobi."

The Uchiha didn't answer, instead, he gave her some space and studied the strange woman. From floundering fish to feline-grace. Something was obviously off. "_Right_. Well, maybe you'll be able to handle some actual defensive moves." He made his way to the center of the room and motioned for her to follow. "Remember, the easiest way to avoid an attack is to evade, but for when you have no choice but to engage an opponent these are the most efficient and least exhaustive actions at your disposal."

As he went over the basic defensive stances and forms, neither party mentioned what sensual overtures transpired the previous night.

.

.

It had been two weeks since the fallen samurai attacked Sakura in her quarters. The fortnight brought with it a myriad of questions as Hiro, after awakening from his coma three days after the incident, had no recollection of where he was, who he was, or what he had done. Most medics wrote it off as amnesia, but as Sakura studied the samurai, locked behind bars and utterly lost, she wondered if it could be as straightforward as that. He hadn't known anything at all; not how to eat, not colors, not numbers – was that really just an intesive case of amnesia?

"The illness must have done something, or perhaps the resurgence of chakra, or the blow to the head. Whatever it was, it fully damaged his mammilary body and the result is...well...retrograde amnesia," Habitsu said, tugging his mask down as they exited the medical ward.

Sakura frowned. "But he didn't remember _anything_," she reasoned, unsatisfied with the medic-nin's report. "Even if he were to forget the most recent events leading up to whatever event had him lose his memory...could it have been such a forceful trauma that it erased _all_ of his memories? What are the odds of that?"

The male shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose, and offered the brunette a crooked, uncertain smile. "I mean, it's not unheard of, right? What do we really even know? As far as we can tell, he suffered blunt-force trauma and I guess that did it? Maybe the illness even did it? What if it damages the memory processing area of the brain through the entirety of its victim's stasis? That could account for the extreme case of retrograde amnesia."

Sakura was unconvinced and showed as much as she nibbled the top of her pen, distant stare settled on the wall.

"Hatsui-san, whatever it is, I'm sure you'll figure it out," the man declared, a hand at her shoulder. He offered a smile so ardent that she felt compelled to blush at his blatant admiration. "You're the smartest nurse-"

"Doctor."

"-doctor I have ever encountered. If there is something amiss here, I have complete faith you will get to the root of it."

The woman rolled her eyes, but was flattered nonetheless. "Thanks, Habitsu. And call me Tsukiko."

"Tsukiko." Something in his voice carried undertones of something intense and guarded. "Have a good training session with Himitsu-san," he added as he waved her off to the training quarters.

Sakura watched him disappear before continuing through the stone-walled labyrinth until she reached the ever-familiar training room. Sasuke was already inside, kusanagi drawn. He was elegant; as beautiful, dark, and lissom as a panther. When he turned and noticed her at the threshold, he nodded in greeting and sheathed his weapon. "Tsukiko," he acknowledged with familiarity in his tone, "you're early."

She gave a slanted smile so comfortable that Sasuke felt a pang of _something_ in the pit of his stomach at the sight of it, and then a wave of brown curls hid it from view as she stepped out of her robes with a shrug of her slender shoulders. The fur pooled at her feet. "Habitsu and I finished our work early," Sakura answered with ease, "besides, there isn't much more we can do. We've revived all the fallen samurai he was able. All we can do is wait for them to wake up."

"It's been two weeks," Sasuke stated. "No one from the first experimental group has woken up yet?"

Sakura shook her head, kicking the fur coat aside. "Do you want to talk about medical details or do you want to spar-?"

Before she even finished her sentence, the Uchiha threw a punch. It was quick for civilian Tsukiko, but for medic-nin Sakura, it was like watching a fly's wings in slow-motion. She met his fist with her forearm, the contact indirect so that the brunt of his force simply slid to the side, missing her left ear by inches. The Uchiha didn't give her a chance to recover, instantly following with his other fist, which she deflected with a straight locked elbow and flat palm, the impact sliding down and to her right. She took the opportunity to raise raise her left knee, aiming for his temple, but Sasuke rolled into his momentum, disappearing from her attack's route, and fanned his leg out beneath her, knocking the woman off her feet. Sakura growled as she allowed herself to hit the floor with a _thud_, fixing the smirking shinobi with a glare.

"You need to be faster," he admonished.

Though there was no denying that her reflexes had vastly improved since they began.

She was up in the blink of an eye and resumed her defensive stance, luring Sasuke to approach. He did so without hesitation, tossing another punch her way, knowing she would block, and following quickly with a kick. Sakura dropped to a single knee and, bracing herself with her hands against the ground, swept out her free leg. Sasuke jumped over her attack, but the medic launched herself up from her crouch and prepared to shoulder him in the gut as he came down from his leap.

Instead of accepting her blow, he shoved her to the side, redirecting both their trajectories. She landed on all fours, and watched through eyes that were far more calculating than he remembered.

"Fast enough for you, _Sasuke_?" She challenged.

His mouth was set in a scowl, but there was no mistaking the smirk in his eyes.

In a flash he had closed the distance between them and a fist came flying out of nowhere that Sakura could only lean away to avoid. She would have fallen had he not hooked an arm around her waist to catch her.

"Don't get cocky," he ordered. "I am _obviously_ holding back." Was that teasing arrogance?

His arm around her was warm, welcoming, and she pursed her lips to avoid saying something that might betray her true skill. Instead she pried away from him, telling heart to _calm the fuck down_ before it beat right out of her ribcage and flopped onto the floor. "Then don't hold back, maybe I'll surprise you," Sakura huffed, pride overriding her better judgement.

Sasuke blinked, watching her with a guarded gaze, and exhaled a breath that sounded strangely amused. "Hn, fine."

He vanished from her vision.

Sakura instantly glanced around the room: left, right, behind, up, dow–

He emerged from beneath her just as she leapt backwards to avoid his attack, but the onslaught had just begun as he gave her no break before spinning mid-air, sending a kick her way. Sakura pivoted to evade and, as he finished the move, aimed her elbow to his lower back. He braced himself on her _head, _using her to redirect his landing and avoid her blow, and came at her again, side-to-side to confuse his prey, before throwing a punch.

The medic surprised him then, matching his speed, blow for blow, dancing around his attacks. He was forcing her into a corner, she realized, as he hastened his pace and she struggled – without her chakra – to keep up. She knew he was only using a fraction of his true speed, and she bit her llip as she registered his movements, and then she was pressed up against the wall once again, unflinching even as Sasuke's rough, dirtied, bare-knuckled fist froze mere centimeters from her jaw. The air from his punch shifted the strands of hair around her face, but she watched him with those stubborn green eyes, unafraid.

There was something so peculiar about the medic, Sasuke mused as he opened his fist and pressed it flat on the wall to study the woman whose speed increased exponentially from their very first training session. Her chest rose and fell rapidly for a few moments, before she was able to catch her breath and resumed a steady-state heartbeat once more. He leaned his head down so that their eyes were level. "Who _are_ you?"

"Tsukiko," she breathed out, unfaltering and sure in her response. "Who are _you_?"

"A samurai," Sasuke answered, the air from his nostrils fanned across her lips, the heat nearly unbearable. _Nearly_.

Both realized they each lied.

But neither challenged it.

Instead, the suspicion hung between them like a veil, tangible in its thickness, providing both parties a sound alibi to avoid the truth and perhaps believe this little lie they've each hidden behind, allowing the truth to remain somewhere buried deep, deep down. Because maybe, just maybe, this little world they've created for themselves was just what each person needed.

Sakura watched his eyes burn with questions, the dark, smoke-filled abyss of distrust and curiosity. She knew he wanted to ask, knew he was fully aware that she was certainly _not_ a civilian medic as Hatsui Tsukiko claimed to be.

"_Who are you?_"

"Sasuke-"

He was the one to move in that time, to press his mouth to her gasp, to silence her query, because that was not the time to break whatever charade they had put up for the world. He didn't want to know her identity, he didn't want her to break the mystery because that was what drew him to her. The fact that she was a constant surprise, her obstinate nature, the intrigue in her eyes – whatever secrets she might divulge, he devoured them before she could utter a word, massaging her mouth so thoroughly with his own that her lips swelled up; plump and soft, rosy.

As quickly as he did it, he moved away a few steps, arms at his sides.

"I'm sorry," he began, but Sakura silenced him with a fragile smile.

"Don't," she moved towards him then, deliberately slow in her gait. Her hand reached out to him, to touch that face that she adored in her childhood. Her fingers caught in his raven tangles, and she freed her hand from his hair. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time," she murmured, palm catching his jaw, and then she rose onto her toes. The kiss was gentle at first, the first trickles of a storm, before devolving to the very hurricane that his thoughts became whenever they involved the annoying woman.

He growled into her mouth, tongue seeking a spar which she instantly obliged, and he snaked his arms around her waist, holding her closer, possessively, exploring the confines of her tantalizing orifice – the thought brought unbidden thoughts of _other_ orifices to his mind and he groaned along the slant of her lips as he took a breath, knowing exactly where his blood was rushing. The woman took complete advantage of his pause and pushed into him, taking in every detail of his mouth, her tongue flicked over the bumps on the roof, the insides, she mentally took stock of his teeth, and then his large muscle was back to fight for dominance and _god_ he tasted like tomatoes and something else entirely _Sasuke_.

Then her hands were clawing at his shirt, searching for reprieve, before they ghosted beneath the hem and – _oh god_ – her palms, those light, medic palms, claimed the expanse of his torso. His tunic was thrown over his head in a single motion, granting her access to the planes of his chest and she took it in. Sasuke welcomed her touch, allowing his own hands to traverse along the silhouette of her frame, tracing the curves hidden beneath her over-sized clothes. He wondered at the hard body that met his gropes; she always seemed so lanky in her attire, but it was evident, as he shoved the hem of her tunic upwards to expose the defined muscle of her lower abs, that she was _far_ from lanky. She was lean, she was _sexy_, and he felt her smirk against his mouth as if she _knew_.

His palms moved upwards to cup each breast through her bra and the resulting sigh of surprise enticed him to continue. A finger hooked beneath a single strap and flicked it off her shoulder, and that hand freed her welcome breast; he massaged it fully, other hand escaping into her over-sized trousers, memorizing the curves of her body, the hills and valleys that made up her back, her ass, the hard muscle of her thighs.

The medic moaned then, an entirely involuntary reaction that spurred Sasuke to explore more of her.

She ground against him, knowing just what he desired and wanting nothing more than to _give it to him_, and he welcomed her gyrations, both hands focusing on pressing her hips into his so that she could be well-acquainted with the erection testing the flexibility of his pants.

"_Tsukiko-_" he growled, and she pulled away, looking up to give him the most devilish of smirks, before dropping her hand past the waist-band of his pants; her warm, soft, hand grabbing hold of his most sensitive appendage-

"Sasuke?"

He blinked.

Wide green eyes stared back.

His hand was flattened along the wall beside her head, but otherwise, nothing more seemed to have transpired between them following their spar.

The medic shifted from one foot to the other. "You, er...spaced out just now," she said, watching him carefully. "Are you...ok?"

He stood up straight and took a large step away from the woman. "Hn," the Uchiha grunted.

Sakura arched a brow but didn't press the matter. "Well, I should go," she said, peeling herself away from the damp stone wall. "Thank you for training me today," she said quickly, offering an oddly formal bow before sweeping down to grab her coat. As he watched her go, he noticed Nine was waiting at the door. He nodded in acknowledgement.

Nine flushed a bright crimson and responded with a bow of her own – jerky, unrefined – before disappearing down the hall.

The medic paused at the threshold and turned to shoot him that crooked smile of hers. "Oh and Sasuke, you might want to take a cold shower."

Sasuke frowned as she retreated into the torch-lit corridor, but the twitch of his erection alerted him to the meaning behind her words. He groaned inwardly and stalked off to do just as she suggested.

Annoying medic.

.

.

* * *

**author's notes:**

_o1._ So yeah, he day-dreamed that, our Sasucakes is becoming enthralled with this medic. He is 100% sure that she is not a civilian, and though she reminds him of Sakura, he hasn't quite put two and two together yet - but he will soon, promise!

_o2. _I did my best to edit this before I posted it, but I am notorious for missing things. I'll continuously read over it over the next few days until I am satisfied with catching all the errors.

_o3._ Review? A ball awaits that should promise some _real_ fun (and not just Sasuke's dirty, dirty, day dreams).

_o4. _News regarding the current of this story and chapter progress will be on my profile, if you are curious/antsy! : ) I will update said news frequently enough, so you know it is recent.


	5. Freckles

**author's note**: Sorry for taking longer than anticipated : ( I posted progress of this chapter on my profile, and updated it often enough to let you guys know I didn't just disappear. What with a family member passing; two exams this past week; and completely buying furniture, rearranging (and, battling the spiders whilst cleaning) my little studio, I had little time to sit and rest, let alone a solid hours or so to add anything significant to the story. But this morning I had a reprieve, all that is over, and I finally sat down and churned this out! I sincerely appreciate the wonderful reviews I've received thus far! I replied to all I was able (I believe), and I can't wait to read what you guys think of this update! I literally _just_ finished it up, and read it over a couple of times to try and catch errors, but again, I will be going back to constantly edit portions of this until I am satisfied, as per usual. Enjoy!

* * *

**Operation: Nightingale**

* * *

**v.**

_Freckles_

_._

_._

"Tsukiko...if I may be so bold, what were you two doing before I came to summon you?"

Sakura, whose cheeks were a brilliant red, shrugged on her coat. "We were _training, _Nine," she insisted for the umpteenth time, peering askance at the girl with a flawlessly painted ivory face. The crinkled red dots at her cheek bones betrayed the large smile that danced across the handmaid's lips.

"Is that what they're calling it nowadays?"

Sakura could practically hear the smirk in the young girl's voice and scowled, "Oh, shutup."

The adolescent snorted in wry amusement but said nothing.

Despite her teasing, Sakura was grateful the girl was warming up to her. It took two weeks for the handmaid to finally become comfortable enough to refer to her as Tsukiko, and, Sakura learned, she was actually _sixteen_ years old. Though the medic shouldn't be too surprised, the paint easily masked her maturity. Besides that, the over-sized kimono wrapped about her already small frame dwarfed her in its (thick but warm) fabric.

The duo exited through the large iron barricade of the samurai grounds and into the sludge-filled tunnel beneath the castle. "Nine?"

The girl glanced over her shoulder, torch-light flickering across her face. "Yes, Tsukiko?"

"Don't...tell anyone."

Nine smiled and pushed against the wooden door, snuffing out the torch as she did so. "Of course, miss."

They retreated to Sakura's quarters in silence, though the blush never quite left the medic's face.

.

.

The water rushed from its faucet, the pressure strong and forgiving. A deep sigh escaped the shinobi's lips as he welcomed the heat, steam filling the communal shower chamber. Sasuke stood beneath the water in silence, reveling in its warmth, hair drenched and plastered to his forehead and neck, the fringes just barely bothering his vision. He wondered at the effect that woman had on him, the way she could elicit such a response – she could have killed him if she had half a mind to, and why? Because he had lost himself for a moment and fell prey to a _day dream_. A _d-a-y-d-r-e-a-m._ Uchiha Sasuke did _not_ have day dreams (except in his youth when he thought of murdering his own brother, and even _that_ was a far cry from his most recent reverie).

The man scowled and reached for the bar of soap tucked into a small compartment near the shower's knobs and absently lathered it across his chest, shoulders, down his arms and taut middle, willing away thoughts of green eyes and that tilted smile.

Soap trickled down his form, following the curves of his defined muscles, pooling at his bare feet and flowing into the central drain.

Just what the hell was so intriguing about that woman! Sasuke was no idiot – he had figured out she was not a civilian the first day of their training, but he didn't press on the matter. Afterall, he had no idea just what she was capable of, or what she was planning. For simplicity's sake, maybe she was in it for the money to help out her village and meant no harm whatsoever. _Or she could be a spy_, his mind whispered and the Uchiha entertained that idea. She did well masking her chakra – obviously she was a tracker – _or a medic nin_. Yes, he conceded, _definitely a medic nin_. Such control was invaluable and a skill that could only be honed so much. Must of it was affinity.

A flash of pink hair and wide, too wide, green eyes came to mind, and he wondered...

But no. Her hair was _pink – Like spring_, his treacherous brain supplied, _like flowers and innocence_ – the man shook his head. She would have had no idea that he was even stationed there, if it _was_ her, she wouldn't need to hide her brilliant features. _Brilliant features_, the thought came unbidden and he squashed it at once. If he ever had a chance to pursue a normal life in Konoha, it was far behind him now.

No. It couldn't be Sakura.

Though, the more he ruminated on that possibility, the harder it was to recall just _what_ she actually looked like. Whenever he thought of her (which was _rare _and never in an inappropriate manner thank-you-very-much) it was always of choppy pink hair and green eyes and monstrous strength. Not the small slightly upturned nose, not the slight freckles of a tan dotting the sides of her neck and tops of her shoulders, and certainly not her sharp chin and round cheeks.

Did Tsukiko have those features-?

"Sasuke!"

The Uchiha's eyes jumped to the entrance and his frown deepened.

A slategray headed man stood a decent distance away, offering a cocky grin. "I'm back!"

Sasuke shook his head and turned to face the wall, rinsing off the rest of the lather, forgetting his train of thought.

"Susanoo's so glad we're back, you should have seen him greet us! He pulled out all the stops – women and food and servants – and get this, he's throwing a _ball_ for us. Ha!" Suigetsu couldn't seem to grasp the fact that Sasuke was currently _occupied_ and was not at all interested in interacting with anyone, particularly another man. "Which means we're having a giant party here. Gods know we all need it, eh? Drinking, eating, dancing, womanizing—speaking of, I've heard some interesting rumors from the ladies around here concerning you and a certain civilian doctor-"

"Suigetsu," Sasuke snapped, fixing a glare at his partner, "Shut up."

The blue-haired shinobi only chuckled and turned away, waving an absent hand over his shoulder. "Sure, sure. I bet she'll be at the ball, though. Might be an opportune time to, y'know, _whisk her off her feet_."

Sasuke obliterated thoughts of flowing dresses and soft lips, insistently scrubbing at his skin as if scrubbing away impure day dreams.

.

.

"Vital signs are steady, his pupils are responsive to stimuli," Habitsu reported absently as he withdrew from the patient and turned to the head medic. His glasses dipped down his nose, and he pushed it back up, giving the young woman a heavy sigh. "Nothing different from yesterday or the day before or three days ago," he admonished, slightly irate, mostly disheartened. "Do you think any of them will wake up?"

Sakura was busy writing down his observations for the daily report and paused to glance up from her clipboard. The deep-set scowl on her counterparts face belied a hopelessness, and she lightly shoved his shoulder away as a friend would. "Don't talk like that, Habitsu," she chided. "If their bodies are responsive and there seems to be no problem, maybe their bodies are doing their best to revive them fully. Our bodies take rather good care of us, there is a point where we can only rely on that and our own will." With a sigh, she lowered the clip board and leaned back on a stool, eyes scanning the ward for any sign of one of the coma-induced samurai to awaken. _But it has been quite a long time. We are burning through Susanoo's funds to keep them alive..._

Though she never turned her back on patients who needed her aid and always gave her all to help, life hardened her to the point of assessing situations in terms of what was best in the long run. Being Tsunade's apprentice for so long, she witnessed first hand the trials the Hokage had to face – not only was she to act in the best interest of her people, but in the best interest of the village, as well. Sometimes difficult decisions had to be made, and losses had to be cut. The inner team member in her would always refuse to abandon a friend – if it was Naruto on one of those cots, she would do whatever was in her power to bring him back. But it wasn't Naruto, or Sai, or Tsunade, or Kakashi.

She knew their names, yes, but that was the extent of her relation with them.

Another part of her wanted to solve this mystery – pride or the satisfaction of knowing she was able to defeat this threat – though no recognition would fall upon her, rather, the civilian doctor. But that hardly mattered.

"Tsukiko," the deep voice could only belong to one person, and she stood from her stool to turn around and greet the lord who welcomed her to his manor.

She lowered her head, "Susanoo."

His amber eyes moved over to Habitsu who mimicked Sakura's motion. "Anything new?" The man asked, already knowing the answer simply from reading the expression on Sakura's face. He nodded his understanding. "I see. Well, the samurai have returned victorious from their battle with Lightning Country. A welcome distraction from the growing dread brought about by this...illness." There was a strain in his voice and worry in his eyes, but the lord did nothing to betray his unease. In fact, he held himself high, shoulders back, presence looming; despite his magnanimous and lavish character, she had to admire the fact that he could comport himself so professionally in the face of what all three of them knew as a hopeless case.

"There _is_ hope," Sakura pressed, watching him; the way his golden eyes fixated so fully on her being caused something inside her to twist beneath his probing gaze.

The easy albeit small smile that graced his lips replaced his intense stare, and the older male nodded. "Yes," though his voice lacked conviction. "How is Hiro?"

It was clear his question was rhetorical, meant to get a rise from the woman, but Sakura bit back her retort, opting for a subdued reply. "He still can't remember a thing."

"Perhaps Kyouta-san's chakra was far too strong and-"

"Lord Watatsumi, Habitsu has excellent chakra control-" _almost better than me,_ "-and he has taken absolute care and precision when healing _your_ men. I would not be so quick to place blame on a man who is using his energy to help you. You should be grateful for what he has done so far, or else you would have twenty eight graves right now."

"Tsukiko, that is unnecessary-" Habitsu began, but Susanoo lifted a hand to silence the bespectacled medic.

For the first time, Sakura saw darkness in Susanoo's eyes. "I admire your respect for your peers, Tsukiko, but I should not need to remind you of your place. You may be a guest in my fortress, but do not forget that I have _employed_ you. Thus far you have given me nothing but a squad of sleeping samurai and one who can't even remember to hold a sword. You must learn to bite your tongue when you have nothing useful to offer." And he turned on his heel to sweep out of the medic bay.

Sakura took a step towards the door to – what? Chase after him? Habitsu's hand on her arm stopped her, and she looked over at him.

"Thank you, Tsukiko," he said gently. He dropped his hand from her forearm as if it burned him, and then took a step away, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "But you needn't defend me. Lord Watatsumi knows how valuable I am. He is just frustrated. Now, shall we check on Hiro?"

Sakura relented, but made a mental note of keeping a professional distance from Susanoo. He was right, afterall, she had gotten too comfortable in her conversations with him. He was still the lord, and for a moment she forgot they were not on amicable terms – only respectable ones. Professional ones. The medic sighed and followed Habitsu to Hiro's quarters, though both medics knew there would be no improvement in his condition.

.

.

"That is the perfect color on you, Tsukiko," Nine said with a smile. She stood beside her lady as both women inspected Sakura's reflection in the vast mirror. Brown hair a tumble of curls dropping over one shoulder, a navy dress with silver embroidery hugged at the bodice and emerged at her hips, reminiscent of princesses in old fairy tales. She wondered if all the guests would be dressed so lavishly – Sakura felt so miniscule in such a grand gown.

But she couldn't deny the fact that the navy suited her. In fact, it reminded her of a certain high-collared shirt a black-haired genin often wore in his childhood. Something about that brought a smile to her lips, and she smoothed out the front of her dress, eyeing the swirling pattern of silver dips and dots. It was like the night sky. She turned towards her handmaid and grinned. "You made a great choice, thank you, Nine." The young girl blushed and nodded, lowering her head in respect, but Sakura lifted her handmaid's chin. "You don't need to treat me like I'm some sort of royalty," she declared, "I'm a civilian, afterall. I just happen to be good with medicine."

Nine's eyes widened at once, the color drained from her face, "I-"

"Will you be attending this with me?" Sakura continued, not allowing the adolescent to ruminate on the idea of being _equals_ (because, truth be told, it seemed Nine would have a heart attack at the very thought – which was strange).

"Well, the ladies are welcome to attend, you know, the ladies who - er..._entertain_ the samurai. But us servants don't attend such functions."

Sakura looked at the girl then, wondering at her age – _sixteen - "_Nine, do handmaids eventually entertain the men?"

Nine didn't respond, but her reddening cheeks were all Sakura needed.

Her hands found the young girl's shoulders – _She will be taller than me_, the medic noted with something akin to affection. "Promise me that you will never ever concede to doing anything with a man that you are not comfortable with."

"Tsukiko-"

"_Promise me_," Sakura urged, staring into the girl's _blue_ eyes. Did she ever notice them? They were startlingly blue. "Don't you ever allow them to-"

But the adolescent's smile interrupted, and her gentle, delicate hand covered the medic's. "Thank you, Tsukiko," she said earnestly. "I-I promise."

As Sakura nodded in relief and moved to slip into her borrowed shoes, Nine watched herself in the mirror, blinking away the deceit in her crystalline gaze. She simply didn't have the heart to tell her lady that she had already breached that threshold, and that she was slowly integrating herself into the ranks of the concubines. It was simply a rite of passage, not unlike receiving the blood of womanhood. But it was clear her lady medic would not understand, and so she remained silent, if only to preserve Tsukiko's happiness.

"Nine?"

The handmaid turned to the tawny-headed woman standing before her, looking every bit as regal as a true queen. "Yes?"

"You are a beautiful, smart, young woman," Sakura said gently, "don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

With those parting words, the civilian doctor disappeared out the door leaving Nine to study her reflection in a way she had never done so before.

.

.

A jab at his upper arm alerted him to presence of his often annoying partner. The sleet-haired shinobi could pass as an actual gentleman in the fitted dark suit gifted to the samurai by Susanoo. They were all measured and given formal wear for the anticipated ball – a week after the samurai dispatched to meet Lightning Country's forces had returned victorious, the festivities were held. All the elite from the Land of Iron were in attendance, the noblemen and women ("And their daughters!" Suigetsu declared with all the confidence of a lord in line to inherit a throne), traveled the ragged mountain ranges to see and be seen, and perhaps rub elbows with the others of their status – or to help boost their status. That aside, celebrations in the Land of Iron were few and far between. Needless to say, people were fussing over this ball through the entire week, which was why, when the evening finally arrived, Sasuke had grown tired of hearing about it and the scant opportunities it afforded those of lower rank. He wasn't interested in such things, afterall.

Perhaps it would provide the perfect moment to make his move – there were so many people about, so many after Susanoo's money, so many after control of Iron Country, it could be anyone. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fingers barely grazing over the kunai attached to his upper thigh. He would make his move that night, likely when Susanoo was busy with a lady of his choosing. He could even frame whichever unfortunate victim the lord would end up bedding – the aid of his Sharingan allowed him as much. It was perfect.

"Did you see that one?" Suigetsu muttered at his side, assessing the flowers in the field, just waiting to be plucked. "Or that one, she's got so many jewels on her I'm surprised she can manage to stand. Or how about-"

But whoever Suigetsu would point out next, Sasuke didn't hear, because his eyes found who he'd been silently searching for. She was at the arm of that medic, Kyouta Habitsu, laughing at something the bespectacled man had said, and the Uchiha told himself he didn't care. Even so, his feet spoke volumes of how untrue that was, as they carried him away from Suigetsu's side (who abruptly stopped talking to curiously watch his partner stalk away), and right into the path of the two medics. Habitsu was first to notice his appearance, and the man's eyebrows rose, startled. "Lieutenant Himitsu," he said, with a rigid smile, "how nice of you to join us. I was just telling Tsukiko here about how-"

"You've been avoiding me," Sasuke cut in, eyes focused on the doctor.

Sakura was surprised for two reasons: one, Uchiha Sasuke had all but marched across the expanse of the ball room to confront her; and two, he looked utterly _handsome_ in his formal wear, so much so, that she nearly forgot herself in admiring him. But she recovered at once and scowled, willing her heart to get a damn hold of itself. "It's rather rude to interrupt a conversation," she quipped, "and I've been busy. Besides, we trained the other day."

"You mean four days ago? For ten minutes?" The Uchiha challenged. "You're skipping your training."

It was partly true, she had filled her schedule with working with Hiro, attempting him to remember something about his past. If there was anything she learned in the past week, it was that Hiro's amnesia was beyond the typical serious case and must have had something to do with an obstruction effectively blocking access to his memories. But as Habitsu probed into the man's head, he found nothing. The whole situation was wholly discouraging.

Aside from that, she _was_ actively avoiding encountering Sasuke at all costs – he was dangerous, her feelings for him (were they feelings? How _did_ she feel about him?) were a liability, and the fact that things had gotten so far between them (well, _physically_, and the mere thought brought a flush to her cheeks) would only make completing her mission harder. What about when she left? She couldn't simply indulge her fantasy only to be woken from it and never experiencing that devil's fruit again. That would be the worst type of torture, and the medic didn't think she could handle it. In spite of all the growing she's done, the men she's dated, the title she's made for herself in Konoha...a part of her was still ineffably drawn to him. After nearly a decade apart!

If she submitted now, who knew what it would do to her psyche?

Which was why, after Sasuke's evident _attraction_ to her, she had to maintain her distance. Even if all he wanted was sex, even if she wanted nothing more than to tear off his clothes and utterly rock his world, she refrained.

"I...you've trained me enough," Sakura answered, hand fidgeting at her side. "Habitsu, would you care to dance?" She ventured to ask, and the male medic beside her blinked in surprise, but nodded. "If you don't mind, Sasuke," she said with a smile. After a moment, he stepped to the side, allowing the two to brush by, but not before he made note of the few tanned freckles dotting the left side of her neck.

Sasuke didn't watch them walk away, instead, continuing on across the floor to pour himself a glass of wine. He hadn't forgotten his faded memories of a pink-haired girl with an affinity for sweets. But whoever Tsukiko was, it couldn't be Sakura. Sakura would never avoid him.

He downed the glass immediately and poured another.

"Careful there, I hear that stuff is strong."

Sasuke glanced to his right to see a head of blonde. "I think I can handle it," he responded, turning away.

"You know, you're not supposed to pour your own glass," the woman said before he could leave. "Would you mind?"

The Uchiha sighed and poured her wine.

"You're one of the samurai, aren't you?" The stranger observed, appraising him with her russet gaze, "I can tell because of your build. You're not scrawny or soft like the lords. You're lean. You're-"

"Not interested," the man finished, noticing the woman's voice drop an octave into something that was clearly supposed to be alluring and knowing that was his cue to nip it in the bud. She visibly pouted, but settled for taking her glass from him. Sasuke was about to walk away, but something in the back of his mind asked him _Why? Why turn her away?_ _Are you holding out for someone else?_ The Uchiha scowled at the taunting thought and set his empty glass down. "Fine. Let's dance."

Her glee was evident, and he led her to the floor, not at all paying attention to the annoying medic and the man whose arms she was in.

The night wore on in a similar fashion, Sasuke and Sakura each notably _ignoring_ the other, drinking their wine, enjoying the evening otherwise. Sakura had the pleasure of meeting a snow-haired man with teeth similar to fangs – Sasuke's partner, apparently. At first she was worried that he recognized her from their previous encounters, but the man betrayed nothing of the sort. He was the Uchiha's opposite in every way, in fact, she was reminded of her own blond teammate. Both were loud, both were funny, and both were crass. Though what Naruto lacked in womanly knowledge, Suigetsu made up for tenfold. He was, dare-she-say, a well-versed flirt.

"You've done an amazing job, you know," he said with a grin as he led her about the marble floor, pausing only to twirl her around, exerting a laugh from the medic. "I've heard the men are all better."

Sakura shrugged, eyes looking away. "They're still in their comas," she said, but her counterpart shook his head.

"You managed to stop it from spreading. That, in itself, is commendable. If Susanoo's done anything right, it was bringing you to lighten up our fortress."

She smiled.

"Now, what's this I hear about you and Sasuke?"

Her smile disappeared. "Ugh. He's..._ugh_."

Suigetsu chuckled, "Yes. I get that. But you have to understand that though he is rather distant, the affection he's shown towards you is very strange."

"Affection?" Sakura snorted in a most unlady-like manner coercing a laugh from the slate-haired samurai.

"_Interest_, then," Suigetsu amended with that half smile of his. "The only interests he's shown in women was for relief. And even _that_ is few and far between. And never a repeat."

Sakura wasn't sure what to do with that information.

As the current song came to an end, Suigetsu leaned in so near she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead his lips moved into the tendrils of her curled hair. "Nice to see you again, Sakura," he whispered.

She froze in his hold, and he laughed, moving away. "Don't worry. I won't tell." Something in his grin made her want to trust him, but the medic was instantly wary. How did he...? Did Sasuke know? As if reading her mind, the shinobi shook his head and gestured for her to join him for some wine and privacy. "No, that idiot doesn't know. He's good with his speed and his chakra detection and his power, and sure, some say he's easy on the eyes, but Sasuke doesn't pay attention to a person's face. He pays attention to their power, their chakra signature, their usefulness." They reached the long, white linen cloth covered table that bore the wine, other beverages, and snacks, and Suigetsu poured his partner a glass of the burgundy richness. "I, however, appreciate beauty. I would recognize your face anywhere." The ensuing smile he gave her was sincere. Sakura took the proffered wine, unsure of how she felt about Suigetsu's theory. "Don't look so glum! I'm sure if you weren't so excellent at masking your chakra, he would have known it was you immediately!"

Thank goodness for the musical entertainment drowning out his words. Sakura poured him a glass in turn and they rose their cups in cheers to a brighter future. As she drank, she wondered just what bright future Suigetsu (and Sasuke) had in mind.

"Stoic bastard, three o'clock," Suigetsu muttered near Sakura's ear.

She almost jumped at the warmth of his voice spreading down her neck. The woman managed to recover just in time to greet the incoming Uchiha. "Sasuke," she said politely enough, though her voice lacked warmth. "Where is that lovely woman you were dancing with?"

Sasuke looked at her, expression unreadable. "You could care less for her whereabouts."

Cue awkward silence.

Suigetsu coughed. "Well, I guess I've got other things I should be doing right now," he said, giving Sasuke a knowing look before leaving the two alone.

Sasuke could have _killed_ him, but instead, he eyed the few freckles dotting the left side of the medic's neck. From her clavicle, up to her ear. He decided the one freckle on her earlobe was a visual interest. _Cute, you mean_, his treacherous mind supplied, a thought the Uchiha did his best to obliterate. Before he realized it, his fingers reached out to brush against her collar bone, then along the edge of her neck – her skin was soft, damp from the light sheen of sweat. An entirely wine-induced gesture. Or so he told himself.

"Sasuke?"

"Dance with me," he implored, extending his hand for her to take. Nevermind that he had only ever danced twice in his life prior (neither occasion a particularly good memory) but he allowed the momentary intoxication of her smile, her freckles, her green - _so green_ - eyes to overwhelm his better senses. Briefly, he was reminded of spring, of _her_, a future he had turned his back on. He could have this, just this one night, he could pretend, and the dance was simple enough, and perhaps those other women - his _partners_, both for dancing and in the bed - were just practice. The smirk he gave her was thick with empty promises of something that both knew could never come to fruition, but that didn't seem to matter, not when the sight of her wide, startled eyes made a languid heat pool in his stomach._  
_

Sakura found it impossible to refuse. The pads of his fingers left a tingling sensation on her skin and the cloudiness in his eyes obscured the storm that normally brewed behind them. He was looking at her in a way he had never done so before, like she had emerged straight out of his dreams. She gave him that slanted smile of hers and placed her hand in his.

And they were off.

It was impossible to say how much wine he drank, but it was clear that it was sufficient to loosen him up to the possibility of admitting this was what he wanted. Sasuke had attended the ball with the intention of usurping Susanoo's power, but when he saw her twirling across the floor with Suigetsu of all people, Sasuke decided it was pointless for him to perpetuate his frustration. Why not indulge? It was a time for celebration, afterall.

When he spun her, she laughed, and he grinned at the sound, wondering at her agility, her grace, and if he taught her that, or if it was in her all along. He didn't care. They moved across the dance floor in time to the fast paced music. Everything was vibrant and lavish and joyful and he couldn't remember a time in his life where things were so _easy_ and exciting in a sense aside from murder and missions. This was different. It was entirely celebratory, entirely luxurious, and he would revel in it for as long as he could.

After that night, things would change. Everything would change. He would assassinate the lord, dispose of Mifune, the Second-in-Command of leadership, and then take the title of Lord of the Land of Iron for himself.

He would set the country straight.

But for now he could enjoy this, because who knew when he'd ever have the chance again. Perhaps it was the wine talking, or maybe Suigetsu finally got into his head – _Learn to live a little, Sasuke. You never know when your chance will be up_. He smirked, and he found he liked the color in the medic's cheeks whenever he did so. The effect did something similar to him, though rather than his face, his blood rushed _elsewhere_.

A portion of the song signaled the males to lift their partners in the air, and he did so, easily clasping the woman about her waist and lifting her up. Sakura leaned her head back, arms spread out, and closed her eyes. That time, instead of setting her down at once to resume their dance, he held onto her, and she looked down at the Uchiha whose dark eyes spoke volumes of an unidentifiable intensity. He lowered her slowly, allowing her body to slide down his torso. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and cupped the side of his face as her forehead met his, her feet still off the marble beneath them.

He studied her face then, the greenness of her eyes, the curl of her lashes, the slightly cracked dryness of her parted lips, arms still wrapped tightly about her waist, lowering her until her shoes were steadied on the floor. The rise and fall of her chest pressed against his, and frivolous thoughts of heated kisses, sweat-drenched limbs, the dampness of her womanhood, the fire behind her touches, plagued his mind.

They were stock-still, simply drinking each other up with their gazes. A cloud of unspoken words rose between them, around them, ensconcing the duo in a private mist that blinded them to the countless other partners orbiting their presence.

"Is something wrong?" Sakura asked, knowing _nothing_ was wrong, and everything was actually oh-so _right_.

"I don't know," Sasuke answered, for the first time in a long time unsure of what to say.

The music came to an end, and the echoing _clink-clink-clink_ of glassware alerted the guests to the host standing at the head table, with General Mifune at his right. Lord Watatsumi was certainly a sight, his long dark hair pulled back and away from his face, his chiseled face smiling at his guests. "I am honored that you were able to attend this evening. Please, eat, drink, be merry! But let us not forget the reason for our gathering here tonight. We are here to commend our strong, brave, samurai for their success in overcoming the invading troops of Lightning Country!"

Applause drowned out his next few words, and he paused lifting a hand to calm the crowd.

"Unfortunately, we have reason to believe they will continue to attack with stronger forces, and a fraction of our samurai are indisposed. I have brought you all here tonight to ask for help in supporting our samurai – help them help us. If you so wish to become a benefactor, I would be forever in your debt," he closed, bowing his head ever so slightly at the noblemen.

Scattered murmuring could be heard, and he cued the music to pick up again. To his right, Mifune waved a hand at the generous people. "A little over-the-top, don't you think?" He muttered.

Susanoo, smile still plastered on his face, shook his head. "These are people who hold their own pride above all. I have to play the humble card. We need their monetary support to pay for enough weaponry, armor, and supplies for your men. If we're to invade Lightning Country soon, we have to expedite the process. Their defenses will only be down for so long. That old hag as their Raikage won't last long. Soon he'll have to choose a new one – we must act before a younger, stronger shinobi takes his place."

Green eyes followed the exchange, reading their lips with practiced ease.

Sakura had been in Iron Country for the better part of a month, and she had gathered enough evidence that Susanoo was building and honing his samurai army to attack other Shinobi Villages. His ambush on the Lightning Country shinobi was proof of that. There was a war coming, and he had the numbers and, soon, the funds to battle for months. Pandering to the nobles of his land confirmed this. She had to return to Konoha and warn the Hokage.

"Tsukiko?"

Her gaze returned to the Uchiha before her, and her eyes widened. Whatever dreamy facade they had shared in the midst of the festivities melted away, leaving behind a hardened face and suspicious eyes.

"I have to go," Sakura said, excusing herself from him. She _had_ to go. She had to leave. That night was the perfect moment to do so, while everyone was distracted. She hadn't expected to escape so soon – she would have liked to bid Nine farewell, but thought better of it. Afterall, she didn't want to reveal anything to the young girl, lest she be accused of harboring a kunoichi. "I'm sorry, I'll be back," she lied.

Sasuke refrained from stopping her.

It was time to act.

* * *

**author's notes:  
**

_o1._ Nothing dirty here, haha, I was planning on things maybe happening, but it took a different plot-driven turn instead so /shrugs, I went with it.

_o2_. I'm pretty tired now this chapter ended up rather long. I hope it was decent enough; please let me know what you think! Any guesses as to what's going to happen next?

_o3. _For those wondering, _yes_, Sasuke will find out (with certainty) that she is Sakura. That should be coming in the next update ; )

- Flick


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